


The Scarf

by sherlollymouse



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Sherlolly - Freeform, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-15
Updated: 2014-05-15
Packaged: 2018-01-24 22:01:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1618562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlollymouse/pseuds/sherlollymouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was my first fanfic. The smut is in the last chapter if you want to skip to that, but I really think this is a good piece.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"I got your experiment out of freezer. You need to stop keeping things in there. I'm not always the one that cleans it." Molly looked back down at some paper work she'd brought out and began filling it out as Sherlock simply sighed, sitting on a stool against a far wall, eyes closed Probably in his Mind Palace. She had to admit, she was a bit annoyed, too. It was definitely an inconvenience to wheel a body back out and Greg and John were no where to found yet.

The paperwork made the time go faster. Though she'd prefer to do it in her office rather than standing at table in the morgue, next to a dead body, she really didn't want to go too far from Sherlock… especially since he was annoyed. Absentmindedly, she stopped to take the ponytail out of her hair, she had pulled her hair back too tightly at lunch and was getting a headache.

"My scarf."

"What?" She nearly jumped, her mind was deep into her work.

"You're wearing my scarf."

"oh, yeah."She glanced down and realized she was still wearing the dark blue and black striped scarf. "I threw it on when I went into the freezer."

"You have your own."

"Yes, b-"

"So, why are you wearing mine?"

"Because mine is clear up in the locker room and I was just popping into the freezer. Not to mention, it was for your experiment."

"Why are you still wearing it?"

"Just haven't taken it off yet."

"Why not?"

"Maybe I'm still a bit chilly. Honestly, Sherlock, why are you so upset?"

"Because its my scarf."

"So, I'm going to give it back."

"Ok." He stood up and walked over, hand out. Annoyed, Molly refused and back away. "Give it back."

"Why are you being like this?"

"Because its my scarf." Molly actually couldn't help but giggle. He was staring at her, genuinely confused, hand still open, ready for the long stretch of fabric that was currently wrapped around her neck, exactly as he wore it, too. She felt a bit like a teenager, but honestly couldn't resist the urge to press this random button he revealed he had.

"You're serious."

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"You're over reacting a bit, don't you think?"

"I just want my scarf back."

"Alright, fine." Deciding she'd press the button. "Than, come get it and I'll give it back." As he began to approach her, she walked away from him. They circled the table nearly twice and it was hard to keep a straight face as Sherlocks face appeared more and more annoyed.

"What are you doing?" He stopped, tilting his head to the side, frustration and a little bit of confusion obvious in his voice.

"I'm not doing anything."

"Just give me my scarf back, Molly." He sighed, reaching over the body.

"Come get it." She smiled coyly and walked to the door.

"I'm not in the mood for this kind of game, Molly."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Her hand fondling the door handle, she made eye contact with the tall, lean, consulting detective as he approached her.

"Stop being silly."

"Just come get it,Sherlock."

"Fine, keep being childish, see if it bothers me." He walked over to the stool he had been sitting on earlier and returned to his former pose.

"Fine. I quite like it. Warmer than my pink one. Needed a new one anyway." The clap of her hands on her thighs echoed in the room.

"You can't keep it!" He hopped back onto his feet with a thud, a look of defiance on his face.

"Why not?"

"Because its my scarf!"

"You borrow plenty from me, Sherlock Holmes, and I don't fret half as much as you are over this scarf. And you have several of these!"

"I'm not-."

"Yes, you are. Now, if you want it so bad, come get it." Did he almost smile? Oh, she was sure of it and decided to push the game into over drive. It was late at night. The hall would be dark, but it was long and with her hand on the doorknob again,she debated. It was very unprofessional, but she felt absolutely giddy and was sure he would chase her and enjoy it. "Come on." She beckoned. "Come get your scarf." Bolting out of the room, pure joy flushed through her as she heard the door being pushed back open and a beautiful baritone cry her name in exasperation. A hooting sound flew from her lips as she felt large, warm hands grasp her waist and two raucous laughs shook the hall as they fell. He had pulled her on top of him, her back against his chest and stomach and Sherlock began to pull at the scarf. "You're going to strangle me!"

"Well, hold still! I'm working one handed and can't find your neck in the dark through your hair and squirming!" In revolt, she leaned back and smashed her lips against his for a long second. All his extremities froze long enough for Molly to get away, tossing a teasing grin and giggle back at her playmate. He swore loudly and continued the chase, tackling her once again in the same fashion, farther down the corridor where some light was shining through an entrance from the street lamps. Fumbling a bit in the shadows, he pulled his scarf towards him and, once she was close enough, she kissed him again as he slide the scarf off of her.

She pulled away long enough to adjusted her body; straddling him, and gently took the scarf back. Sherlock was frequently intense in some fashion, but she had never experienced such focused eye contact as she replaced his scarf around his neck. Her new tool pulled him up to a sitting position and his lips back to hers. Molly wasn't always sure about Sherlock, but she knew she heard him moan and was fairly certain he was melting, too, under the heat of the deep lip lock they were sharing. Neither of them heard the door open, in fact, Molly wouldn't have stopped if she hadn't felt Sherlock jump at the sound and the flash that came from the mobile phone camera app of a certain D.I..


	2. Chapter 2

John Watson cleared his throat, as a bit of a warning, before Greg Lestrade took his quick picture. But, neither on the floor seemed to hear. The D.I. had considered taking video, but felt that would have been a bit too much. A simple snapshot would be enough to gawk and laugh at back at Scotland Yard, his other option was simply over kill.

"Are you two having fun down there?" He quickly forwarded the photo to his email, just in case.

Sherlock felt his face go warm and was surprised at Molly's perceived coolness. She simply picked herself up off of him before turning to offer her hand to him.

"We're fine." Never breaking eye contact with her, he cautiously took her hand and climbed up off the floor.

"Well, uh… I believe you brought a body out for us, Molly." Johns eyes flashed back and forth between the now slightly dusty couple, forcing the shorter feminine one to adjust her focus to him.

"Yes, I did." Her pace was brisk and she began spouting off the stats as soon as she hit the door. "35, multiple lacerations to the torso, none fatal, ….." She rattled on to the trio, pointing out things on the body and handed them a copy of her report from earlier that day… or was it yesterday now? Molly hadn't glanced at the clock in quite a while, it could very well be past midnight. The men seemed to absorb the information like a sponge, and though she could see in Sherlocks face he had already figured it out, she continued on, boasting his ego, she was certain.

The detectives eyes had darted from the report to the body, cross referencing specific data and they had illuminated with a ghostly blue green glow and his lip had curled up. She knew that face.

When they were done and Sherlock was finished bestowing his wisdom upon the D.I. and doctor, Molly began to prepare to replace the body in its freezer drawer.

"Need help?" It was her turn to jump a bit, heart skipping a beat as she realized Sherlock had hung back.

"I thought you had gone." She giggled.

"No," his reply was almost sheepish. "Besides, I'm in no hurry. I'm not heading out to arrest someone or sneaking back into bed with a new, irritable and sleep deprived mother."

"I definitely don't envy John right now." It was nice to joke with him, they hadn't done this much. Being dead would change anyone, but, for Sherlock Holmes, she realized, it had made him more human in some respects. His deep friendship with John had helped him realize how much he appreciated and even enjoyed the simple presence of certain other people. These 'certain other people', she knew, included her. Death gave him this revelation and he had to endure radio silence for the better part of two years. When he came back, he seemed dedicated to making his appreciation known. He had invited Molly to spend an entire afternoon, into the evening with him, had been attempting to remember 'Gavins' first name and had actually told John he loved him in front of fairly large audience of people. Of course, he was still Sherlock, but now he was a Sherlock who had had friends, became use to their company, and had endured a deep loneliness he probably didn't even have words to properly voice.

"Molly, what exactly were you doing?" Their hands touched as they closed the victims cold chamber drawer.

"What?"

"With my scarf earlier…"

"Oh, that." A gentle laugh. "I suppose I was just playing with you,"

"Playing with me?"

"Yeah, it was a fun way to pass the time. I don't think I played like that since the last time I went home for Christmas."

"You don't go home for Christmas?"

"Not since uni. After my father died… we don't get together much… my brother, mother and I just do our own things."

"Right." He handed her her paper work as they walked back toward her office.

"Why would you ask that? Haven't you played with anyone like that?" He took a breath, but no words came out."I mean, granted, we're a bit old for it, now, but its nice to not act your age every once in a while… Good for the soul." He simply nodded, making minimal eye contact before leaning in to kiss her on the cheek, but as he began to pull away, a frustration overtook Molly and she grabbed the scarf again. Desperate to steal another kiss,pulling him back to her, but she didn't have to. He willing obliged and she could taste him again, one last time that night. He tasted faintly of toothpaste, cigarettes and coffee. Had that been all he was running on tonight? She thought he was eating more since he'd come back, even invited her to eat with him, but…. why was she thinking about that NOW?! She ushered it out of her mind so she could refocus on the kiss… revel in it. But, it was short lived. After all, this was Sherlock Holmes and this was 'not his area'.

He pulled away gently, planting his forehead against hers and they shared a few more seconds…. just being with each other, until he spoke.

"Molly,…"

"Yes."

"My scarf. May I have it back, please?" Her mind finally acknowledged her hand and she realized she had what could only be described as a death grip on his winter accessory. Licking her lips and looking away from him, she released it and watched the peach color return to the knuckles that had just been a milky white. "Thank you."

She didn't watch him leave, but she listened. As much as she enjoyed the kisses, she kind of wanted to cry. Something felt very sad about that night…. maybe it was just in her head…. or maybe it was Sherlock or the fact that that evening, they'd captured lightening in a bottle. Either way, focusing on the fun they had and ignoring that dark cloud that loomed over it was never going to easy.


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock hadn't been to Saint Barts more than once or twice in the month following their little game. Molly wasn't sure why but, he seemed fine. In fact, he seemed a bit more jovial the few times he had appeared in the morgue or the lab, coat flourishing like a cape behind him as he threw open the doors, nearly chirping her name as if it where a great clue he had just miraculously found.

But, today…. today was the best…. and the worst…

He sauntered in his usual way, but he was alone with two coffees as he stepped into her office.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't sure how you take yours." He looked down at the floor. "I never did offer you coffee, did I?"

"No, you didn't. Thank you, though." She graciously took the cup and moved from her desk to the couch, inviting Sherlock to join her. "Did you need something?" Steadying her clipboard on her thigh she returned to the task at hand.

"No, I just… thought maybe I could help you."

"Help… me…?"

"Yes."

"With my work?" Her stare was probing him deeper than her words.

"Maybe." He shrugged, "I wasn't sure." Just before the silence became heavy he continued. "You just help me with my work so much, I figured maybe I could do something to help you."

"You're lonely." Molly pointed her pen accusing at him as he stood in blatant defiance.

"I am not."

"Yes, you are." She chortled.

"I'm just bored."

"Than find a case."

"Nobody has killed anyone in an interesting way all week. They've all been devastating dull and predictable."

"Doesn't have to be a murder, Sherlock."

"Well, not much else interesting happens in this city."

"We're in London." When he didn't respond to her tittered tone, she added pointedly. "Admit it, you're lonely."

"Fine." Eyes rolling in response. "But, that doesn't mean I didn't want to see you." The silence that followed was a bit like a warm blanket. It wasn't awkward or upsetting and they just bathed in it for a bit as she smiled sweetly at him.

"Are you hungry?" The ambient reticence had given him enough time, she was sure, to go traipsing through his mind palace so it wasn't a shock for him to hum back a polite request to repeat herself. "I said, are you hungry? Its nearly my lunch." Sherlock made faces and bobbed his head from the left to the right a few times before speaking.

"Yes." He finally nodded, after what Molly imagined was a huge debate in his head. So, off they went, wandering the city, foraging for food. "Not that one" He would say and add something trivial or seemingly mundane about doorhandles, or the windows or simply not wanting to eat there. "Oh, this looks promising." He grabbed her arm and pulled her towards an Indian restaurant.

"Sherlock," Molly resisted. "I don't want curry."

"They have other things."

"I don't want sag or masala either."She sighed. Ready to admit defeat. "Lets just get Chinese. You know all the good Chinese places." She began to walk away.

"But we're here now." He began to argue.

"Listen-" Grabbing his scarf, she was about to playfully tell him off but applying pressure to it now had a different connotation. He seemed a bit scared all of sudden and his eyes darted everywhere up and down the city street they physically could. She released it and stepped back, opting to simply eat where they were. It would save time and energy. Almost shyly, he gently inquired about her family. Her fathers illness, her estranged relationship with her mother and brother, and seemed genuinely interested.

On the way back, at one point, he grabbed her hand. Of course, he had decided to run so as to get her back 'on time', but she was convinced this was some kind of excuse. So much so that, when they made it back to her office, she turned to face him and pressed herself against him. Gingerly, she took the scarf up in her hand; holding it taunt, she rubbed her thumb back and forth, applying pressure that pulled it tighter, than released his neck.

"Can you stay longer?" He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out, so she released the scarf and the coaxing stare. A bit embarrassed, she retreated to her office but he followed, catching the door she had nearly slammed in his face and she heard the click of the lock.

Determined breath warmed her neck and she bowed her head, stepping back into tenacious hands that rubbed slowly from her hip down her thigh.

"Sherlock." She moaned as his soft lips caressed the nape of her neck before turning her to face him. His hands, once again resolute in their decisions, lifted her off of the floor and pressed her against a wall. Molly braced herself, wrapping her legs around his hips as he began working on her blouse buttons. Hands cupping her breast, he began suckling her neck. Thats all she needed were multiple hickeys in noticeable places, but she didn't care. She had longed for him to claim her, touch her, kiss her… anything her. And now he was.

The air was cold on her breasts and she could feel her nipples harden before he moved his hands beneath her bra, pulling it off over her head and returning to rub his thumbs over their soft,pink dunes.

She let out cries of his name and incoherent noises as he worked his way down her chest, over her clavicle with kisses, to gently bite her obviously-not-too-small breasts and suckle her nipples.

Half naked now, the only warmth she felt was from him and after so much concentration on her torso, she could only gasp when she heard her trouser button come undone and felt his hand slip into her knickers.

Pausing from his oral work on her milky breasts, they made eye contact as he found her clitoris and they both shuddered. Before he even actually did, she could feel him pull away and she grabbed his arm.

"No, you can't, not like this." She was searching his face. "Don't you dare." Why did having fun with him have such a cloud over it. Why, why, why?

He pulled away, anyway, not even handing her any of her clothes. At least, she though, he was considerate enough to lock the door again as he left.


	4. Chapter 4

She gave him time. Maybe she needed it more than him. She had been incredibly angry with him after he left that night. Six weeks and he had been avoiding her. Obviously avoiding her. Molly knew it was dangerous to corner a caged animal, but this was becoming necessary. She really needed to talk to him.

After the fall, Sherlock had given her a key to the Baker Street Flat. When he needed things in the short time he stayed in her tiny flat, she'd wait for Mrs. Hudson to be out or asleep and let herself in to get things for him.

Things got strained then, too. They both slept in her bed and she'd wake up, both of them in each others arms. He had blamed her, but didn't make a suggestion of other sleeping arrangements.

She stood in the doorway and surveyed the living room. He wasn't there. Before she went back to knock on his bedroom door, she was startled by her cell phones text alert and John Watsons voice echoing in the hallway.

"Molly?" He panted a bit, as he reached the landing. "Is Sherlock here?"

"No."

"Well, he hasn't been answering our messages. Hasn't been taking cases…. we're a bit worried. Let me know if you hear anything."

"Of course, not a problem."

With that, John Watson was satisfied and made a hasty exit. No doubt to one of Sherlocks popular bolt holes and Molly finally took the opportunity to check her message.

You're it. - SH

I'm what? - Molly

Even her phone keys felt annoyed.

When he didn't reply, she decided to look for him. Uncertain of which hiding spot to check first, she went to check her flat.

Of course, he wasn't there, but he had been. He left his scarf on her bed.

Sherlock, whats going on? - Molly

I thought I told you. - SH

You've told me nothing. - Molly

You're it, Molly. - SH

"For god sakes." She exhaled and sent a text message to someone who might be more helpful.

Where have you check for him so far? - Molly

John sent a message rattling off all the ones they all knew of.

He's not at your place, is he? - JW

Nope. Just got home. - Molly

She withheld the scarf and cryptic messages.

Tell John I'm fine and stop looking for me. Its getting annoying. - SH

Fine, but why is it annoying? He's your friend and wants to know you're actually safe. Not just that you say you are. - Molly

No response, but Molly obliged.

Well, at least he's alive. I texted him and told him I wasn't going to stop. - JW

"Of course he's not." She met the eyes of her cat, Toby, who seemed to have a knowing, smug expression on his face. "He told you what he's up to, didn't he?"

She went traipsing around the city, picking locks and climbing through windows and even breaking into a crypt looking for him.

Just a bit too late, Molly. - SH

Her phone chirped as she left an abandoned house.

Why would I go there? - SH

As she nearly broke the crypt door.

You're trying to hard - SH

When she walked past Angelo's.

You can do better than that. - SH

She fell through the window at an old, empty church.

I've never hidden there, Molly. - SH

Molly had regressed to circling a library. Exasperated, she went down the street towards the drug den John had found him in.

For god sakes, I'm not high! - SH

Just as she was giving up and heading home, turning on to her street, the phone beeped one more time.

Getting warmer - SH

Oh, she thought to herself, of course! I'm it! This is a game. He's playing with me! Then she added, less excited, more annoyed. And, he's obviously, watching me.

John, stop looking. I think I know where he is and I'll text you later. - Molly

Only if you're certain. I need a bath anyways. Some of the places he hides…. - JW

I know! I'll let you know as soon as I'm sure. - Molly

Clutching the scarf, she headed off to the last place she could think of he might possible be.

As she walked into the room, fully and completely proud of herself, she sent one last text message.

Olly Olly Oxen Free - Molly

Behind her, see heard a text alert bleep and a chuckle. In the abandoned, dark lab of Barts, it echoed.

"Took you long enough, Molly Hooper."

"You know, Johns worried sick."

"Johns worried when I stub my toe." She brought her face into a tight smile and hummed a laugh. 'What are you doing?" Immediately, she'd dug out her phone.

"Telling him I found you." Sherlock responded with an annoyed grunt and an eye roll.

Found Sherlock. Everythings fine. - Molly

"So.. that was fun…" He inhaled slowly. "You found the scarf."

'Yes, I did." Molly began to play with it, sliding it through her hands. "We should talk."

"Talk about what?" Sherlocks eyes widened as much as hers narrowed, she was certain.

"You can't be serious." The only response he gave was to stare at the floor. "Why do you do this?"

"Do what?"

"Make something that makes me happy also make me sad, Sherlock." Finally, he met her gaze.

"I make you happy, Molly Hooper?"

"Of course you make me happy!" How could he not know this. "I like being around you, even when you're a dick, but the last time I saw you…. you…." His grey eyes wandered away from hers. "You ran away. Like a scared little boy."

"Sorry." The normally confident baritone sounded so uncertain and almost as if he was asking a question.

"I just want to know what happened, because that was an awful thing to do."

"Well, this isn't my area."

"Than, let me help you." Molly intervened as he opened his mouth and reached out, obviously for the scarf, reaching out with her empty hand and taking his. "You start by talking." He chortled.

"I don't do this, Molly."

"Well, you did and you, obviously, might, again so out with it."

Her phone chimed again, but she wouldn't be answering it anytime soon. They stared at each other a while in the dark, searching each others faces.

"I have an idea, Sherlock." His facial expression asked a worried question. "You said you always trusted me. Well, thats all I'm asking you to do… Can you do that, Sherlock?" Molly closed the gap between them. "Can you just trust me?"


	5. Chapter 5

"Molly."

"Sherlock." She raised an eyebrow. "Thats all you have to do." The squeeze she gave his hand was a definite comfort, somehow and he responded with eye contact and a nod and she pulled his lips to hers. Grateful he parted his lips, she slid her arm up around his neck. "Follow me." She pulled away and whispered into his ear.

He didn't argue or fight and said nothing as she guided him into her office. "Lock the door, please." She was cleaning off her desk, which didn't take much at all. Turning her attention back her partner, she took both hands and turned him to lean against her desk. He took of his coat. Finally, though, a bit of protest did flow from his lips as she pulled the scarf over his eyes.

"Molly, what are you doing?"

"What does it look like?"

"Well… nothing, honestly. Why are you blind folding me?" Molly hushed him and began trying to soothe him with kisses."Bu-"

"Sherlock" Her tone was gentle, but had a bit of a warning to it.

"I just don't—" She hushed him again.

"Do you want to stop?" The detective hesitated. "Do, you?"

"No."

"Alright, than. Just trust me."

"I-"

"Ssshhhhh! Just trust me." He took a ragged breath and allowed her to continue running her hands up his chest and pulling his blazer down before working on the buttons, kissing him all the way down his torso before slipping his shirt off. When she pulled away, Molly gently turned him around and placed his hands on her long desk. "Lay down on your stomach." Hesitantly, he obliged and she climbed up to straddle him. Sherlock could hear her desk drawer open and felt the oil on his back. It was scented.

"Why do you have body oil in your office?"

"Ssshhhh! I prefer it instead of lotion at work. The gloves, the constant washing of my hands… its very drying. Now, hush." She traced the scars on his back and kissed many of them. Thinking to herself how obvious it was this man, in general, but specifically, his physical body had never really been shown an abundance of love and affection. She firmly, but lovingly, proceeded at kneading his back… feeling muscles completely loosen at her touch. "You're an amazing, beautiful man, Sherlock Holmes." A kiss was planted on the nape of his neck. "You don't hear how wonderful you can be enough. You should hear that more often."

"I don't usually do anything that warrants that type of sentiment." He moaned as she found a knot and fought it loose.

"Well, that doesn't mean you don't deserve to be loved at all." Sherlock gripped the desk and adjusted beneath her. "Almost got it undone." She whispered. He tried to stifle himself as he cried out, gleefully, when the knot relented beneath her hands. "Better?"

"Absolutely, Molly." Sherlock cleared his throat. "You should know that I've never really allowed—" She hushed him again.

"Sherlock, its fine. Everything is fine." She climbed down off of him and help him sit up before removing his shoes and socks. To send him the nonverbal message of her plan, she brought him to his feet and pulled his trousers taunt, fingers on the button. "May I, Sherlock?" He reached up and found her face and brought it to his lips; kissing the crown of her head.

"I trust you." He exhaled and she proceeded to remove the last of his clothes.

Sherlock Holmes was naked in front of her, wearing nothing but his scarf as a blind fold. Molly took a few more moments, tracing and kissing scars, before helping him into a chair and set to work on his feet and calves. Giving them the same love and affection she'd shown his back. To her delight, she learned he was ticklish when she brought his foot up to her lips. "Why are you kissing those?" He giggled, pulling away. "They've been in my smelly, sweaty shoe all day."

"Because I want to, now hush!"

"I've going to smell like vanilla and lavender now, you know. People will talk."

"People are always going to talk. You say that yourself." He hummed a response and continued to relax. This was doing him good, she thought. Blindfolding him and easing him into this. In his left foot, she found another knot and enjoyed watching him squirm a bit because of her and her dedicated, loving hands. When that finally relented, she stepped back.

"Where did you go? The oil is too strong, I can't smell you." She touched his arm to sooth him.

"I'm here. Remember…. just trust me… Thats all I'm asking of you, Sherlock." He nodded. "Can you hear what I'm doing?" The response was a deep inhale.

"You're taking off your clothes."

"Yes, I am." He just sat there, breathing and listening as she stripped down. Molly thought maybe he was trying to figure out which article of clothing he was hearing her remove. When she was done, she straddled his thighs and encouraged him to explore her body; running his hands along her skin and leaving one on her breast and guiding the other to the small of her back. He enthusiastically indulged himself in her, leaving her damp with kisses and the sexual frustration she'd endured since her break-up.

She made certain to allow herself to be vocal, since he couldn't see her face, she wanted to make sure he knew she was enjoying his physical attention. In the heat of the moment, his hand had drifted to her clitoris and she let out a loud gasp.

"I'm sorry, Molly. Was that not ok yet?" She giggled.

"Sherlock, its fine. I want this." Molly slid his fingers back beneath her and pulled him into a deep, passionate kiss. Thumb on her clit, he slid two fingers inside her and shuddered like he had the last time, but she could tell he wasn't going to pull away tonight.

"I never knew I got you this wet." He'd released her lips to let her moan out loud.

"You always have, Sherlock."

"Really?"

"I use to touch myself and think of you." He leaned into her and kissed her throat when she threw her head back.

"Wh-what would I do to you?"

"We would do everything to each other, Sherlock." She confessed. "In my mind, we've done this a million times." With a cry of his name, she climax and bent into him for a moment, before heading back to her desk and fumbling through the drawers again.

"Do you know what this is?" She placed the item against his face.

"A condom." Sherlock cleared his throat.

"Do you want to stop?"

"No, Molly."

"This is ok?' Blind as he was, he found her fast and pulled her close.

"I trust you, Molly Hooper." He swallowed and continued. "You're the one that matters the most." Given how rare it was for him to express sentiment, she made sure to reward this with another kiss as she open and rolled the condom over his sizable erection.

She took a moment to simply admire the nervous, but determined, virginal man before her; tousling his hair, kissing his nose and holding his cheek. He was so beautiful. In response, he fussed a bit. "Anything wrong?"

"Absolutely nothing is wrong, Sherlock." She sheathed him within her and then, crossed her arms behind his neck. While the ride started out, slow, he began to fidget from ache and grabbed her hips, grumbling and moaning her name. In one breath, she was salvation and in the next a swear, but he clung to her like she was his last breath. He felt like a mess, like an animal, fumbling around in the dark with one clear mission. She climaxed twice before it was completed.

Once he was spent, and curled into her, she raised the scarf and their eyes met again. Looking up at her from her breasts, he hadn't gotten his breath completely back, yet.

"Molly, I want to see."

"What do you want to see?"

"I want to see your face when …" Molly began to guide his hand, but he objected, pulling them both to their feet before bringing Molly to the far wall and she, reflexively wrapped her legs around his hips.

A more confident and determined man stared her in the eyes now and she melted at his touch. She was going to enjoy exploring his sexuality with him. He seemed to like being dominated a lot, but this man before her, demanding she look in his eyes, was not the same man she'd made love to on the chair a few minutes prior.

As she came undone, he kissed her and she knew in that moment, as she saw that look in his eyes, he was hers.


End file.
